When Fandoms Collide
by Nieriel Raina
Summary: Welcome to my life, where the characters move in and take over. Only this time, they're not just from Middle-earth! Whodathunk Legolas would object to my Hawkeye crush? Or that a dwarf and a Russian spy would get along so well? What happens when Hobbits and Tony Stark insist the Fellowship join the Avengers? A Sequel to A Mirkwood Spider Landed On My Front Porch
1. Archer's Paradox

**Author's Note: **I strongly recommend reading A Mirkwood Spider Landed On My Front Porch before reading this tale. Much of the humor and characterization won't be easily understood without having read that.

**When Fandoms Collide**

**By Nieriel Raina**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Archer's Paradox**

My life had got a bit dull, a little too routine. I know I shouldn't have expected it would last, but with the spider on extended vacation (Okay, I honestly don't know where she went!) writing has been out of the question. Oh my character roomies are still hanging about. It's never completely quiet, but actual progress on a story line? Not happening.

At least not until something happened that I so didn't expect. The unthinkable!

I fell in love with another fandom. Whodathunk it?

It was really unplanned, and to be honest, I fought it completely and had no desire to go there at all. But a certain elfling (who shall remain unnamed) insisted I watch Thor, and then demanded (okay, after Thor it didn't take much persuasion) that I go see The Avengers. And the next thing I knew, I had a handsome (devastatingly so) SHIELD archer/master assassin on my doorstep.

From the moment he knocked (Clint is always so polite and never demands, just quietly insists in a manner I simply cannot resist), I was swept completely off my feet. Seems I have a thing for sexy archers in general and not just platinum blond ones. This one also arrived with a red-headed sidekick, though I've never had the guts to say that to her face. She'd kick my ass. And probably my head. But they were so cute together I had to invite them in. I had no idea what kind of disaster that would cause! Or the confrontation that would follow when I suddenly found myself writing Avengers fan fiction, of all things.

It started with a shove, causing Clint's eyes to flare with annoyance. Never a good thing. "Watch it, Blondie," Clint says, shaking off Legolas's grip.

But Legolas is too angry to speak calmly or rationally. He's just like his dad sometimes. "She is mine," he snarls, glaring daggers at Clint. "She has always been mine. I arrived before—" he gestures behind him at the conglomeration of characters sitting around my living room (it's a tight fit these days) watching the confrontation — "all the others, even the damned spider."

Who knew the elf could be so protective? And I admit, I'm kind of liking that possessive tone of his! Makes a girl's heart go all mushy and pitter pattery.

Clint blinks several times, as if only now seeing the others present, then turns to me with that questioning look of his.

I shrug. "They come and go. Not seen some of them in quite a while." I frown at them. "They like a good show, though, so there they are." I point, and sure enough Erestor is passing a huge bowl of popcorn to Gimli. Natasha, sitting beside the dwarf and showing interest only in the entertainment value, reaches in to grab a handful. Somehow I'm both surprised and shocked that the assassin and the dwarf have hit it off. Guess they have more in common than just red hair.

Clint glares back at Legolas. "And just who are you?"

"I'm Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen and Lord of Ascarnen in Ithilien."

"That's quite a mouthful," Clint replies, then freezes as the name registers. "Did you say Legolas?"

"Yes."

Clint's eyes narrow dangerously before he spins, drawing and releasing an arrow so fast even Legolas is impressed, and which Tony Stark just manages to avoid, mainly because Glorfindel jerks him out of the way. "Do not _EVER_ call me that again!"

"How was I to know he was real?" Tony asks.

"None of you are real," I mumble, but of course they aren't listening to me.

"Well, we're kind of real," Pippin whispers, and I jerk around wondering when the hell the Hobbits got here. Elves, Men, Dwarves, a Vala or two… Okay sure, but Hobbits?

"We wanted to be in this one," he says as if that explains it all. "You know, The Fellowship joins the Avengers?"

"Oh dear God," I moan.

"I must admit, I like that idea," Boromir inserts.

"Now wait just a minute…" Clint isn't going to take this well. He prefers things quiet and peaceful and with this crowd it's sure to be anything but!

"Hold on, Barton," Tony jumps in. "Maybe we could use them. Those droid bot thingys can be a pain to take out."

Clint just stares at him blandly before deadpanning, "And knives and swords are going to stop them?"

Stark lifts a brow. "You carry a freaking bow, Robin Hood. Don't think the medieval weaponry argument is going to work on this one."

"Oh let them come," Natasha adds with a devious expression. "It could be fun."

"You and I have different definitions of the word "fun"," Clint says.

She just smirks. Gimli guffaws. Legolas glares.

"I am _not_ sharing _her_," Legolas points at me, "with another fandom!"

"Not to state the obvious," Bruce interrupts, "but it doesn't look as if you have much of a choice."

"We sure didn't," Steve looks a bit put out. Maybe because Legolas is prettier than he is.

Legolas shakes his head. "She has not yet finished the works she has begun, tales worthy of Middle-earth…"

"Hey, Katniss, I think you mean girly romance stories that were getting sappier by the chapter."

Both Legolas and I both glare at Tony for that comment. "They aren't sappy," I say.

Legolas just gives me a panicked side glance. "Romance?" he asks.

I shrug. "You know I'm a sucker for a good Legomance!"

"You already wrote one!"

"There can never be too many?"

"Bojemoi!" Natasha mutters. "Obviously the poor woman needed us if she was reduced to writing romance."

Clint and I both give her a dry look, and now it's her turn to look panicked. "No. Please tell me you're not…"

I grin.

And so it begins….

**To Be Continued…**

**Author's Note: I make no promises on frequency of updates. This stuff usually only comes late at night when I'm sleep deprived and experiencing some serious writer's block (also known as procrastination). This stuff is raw, unbeta'd and if you take it seriously, you have got more issues than I do and that's saying a lot. Happy reading! **

**Oh, and while the spider is MIA, there is a Hulk here now and he likes the reviews so… *raises brow* Don't piss him off, k?**


	2. Holey Bike Shorts!

**Chapter Two**

**Holey Bike Shorts!**

Surprisingly, Natasha doesn't kill me for the novel I'm writing about her and Clint. She just kind of clams up and refuses to look at Clint or me. Legolas and Clint continue to glare at one another, from opposite sides of the room. I don't think they'll ever get along.

Bruce and Tony have wandered off somewhere, and the rest of us are just kind of hanging around waiting. I'm not quite sure for what. Probably for me to figure out just how to write the Fellowship into the Avengers or visa versa but I gotta tell ya, I'm rather stumped.

So, we just…wait. Gimli's in the kitchen doing some baking, and Natasha and I are seated on the futon. The Hobbits are in a corner whispering (Plotting?), and random other characters meander in and out, casting looks my direction as if to say "figure it out already!" Trust me, guys, I wish I could, but this is all just a bit…odd. Odder than usual.

"So," Natasha says, taking my attention off the awkward silence. "The dark haired elf?"

I raise my brow. There's any number of dark haired elves wandering around among the golden and red haired ones.

"Not the twins, the other one."

I raise my other brow. Again, there's quite a few, though to be fair many of them are Peredhil, which isn't exactly elves, but more like Mongrels, but they're kind of proud of it.

"Not the healer guy either…" She sighs and gestures towards the bathroom. "The one on his hands and knees cleaning the bathroom in nothing but bike shorts!"

Oh! "That would be Erestor. What about him?" I glance his way, my eye appreciatively running over those aforementioned bike shorts hugging his elven frame. I do love when Erestor cleans the bathroom!

"Why is he just wearing bike shorts?" she asks, her eyes roaming as well.

"Some things we just do not question," I tell her. "We just accept."

"And enjoy the view?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, that works for me."

We both sigh about the same time identical _twangs_ sound from opposite sides of the room. And the next thing I know, Erestor shrieks and falls flat on his face, an arrow protruding from each cheek (And not the ones on his face!)

I glare at the elven arrow, obviously of Eryn Lasgalen make in the standard green and yellow, while Natasha glares at the SHIELD issued arrow. Seems our archers have found something of a common ground after all.

Clint smirks and looks rather smug. Legolas, on the other hand, looks rather guilty. This is all kind of out of character for him. His jealousy is way out of place since he knows my heart is taken by the Balrog Slayer. Cute he may be, but he's not Glorfindel. (And Glorfindel isn't Clint Barton but I'm not about to acknowledge _THAT_ attraction with the master assassin from Russia in denial sitting less than two feet from me!)

Speaking of Balrog Slayers, Glorfindel, his attention caught by the elvish cursing from the bathroom floor, sticks his head in and asks, "Are you well, Erestor?"

"Do I _look _well? There are two arrows in my arse!" Erestor snaps in that way only Erestor can, the manner that makes even Glorfindel take a step back.

But you don't kill a balrog if you're easily intimidated by near naked Chief Councilors flat on their faces with arrows in their ass. "Indeed."

Elrond steps in, shaking his head and taking assessment of the situation and most likely deciding how best to remove the arrows quickly without Erestor killing him, but suddenly Pippin shoves past him into the small room, his eyes wide. "Erestor? Are you dead? Say you aren't dead!"

"I'm not dead."

Merry pushes in to gape at the spectacle, because Erestor isn't humiliated enough at this point. "Whatever you do, don't answer Namo's call! Stay with us!"

Erestor groans. "I will walk this world as one of the Houseless before I go to that nutcase's halls!" Erestor snaps.

"Well, that's it," Pippin states matter-of-factly, "he's dying."

"Please do not die, Erestor!" Merry pleads.

Elrond rolls his eyes, unable to handle the medical emergency with distraught Hobbits in the way. He gives them a stern look. "If you wish to help Erestor, I need you both to go outside and find me a blue flower with red thorns."

Merry and Pippin glance at each other before rushing outside, two Hobbits on a mission for Agent Smith… Errr… Elrond. Frodo, who's been watching with casual interest, turns to Sam. "How long do you think it will take them to realize it was a Shrek gag?"

Sam just blinks at him, and Frodo drops his head into his palm. "I'll send Elladan and Elrohir to find them later. Blue flower with red thorns… Sheesh."

Natasha sits back looking a bit overwhelmed, which considering the things she's seen is rather surprising. "Is it always like this here?"

"Pretty much," I tell her. "And you never know just who might turn up."

The words are hardly out of my mouth when music that I suppose is meant to sound like an angel symphony but really sounds like Tinkerbell fills the air. I groan. A moment later, there in the middle of the living room stands Lord Námo himself…sans his normal black attire. Indeed, sans any attire at all! For the love of Manwë, he's _BUCK ASS NAKED_, unless you count the blue and yellow polka dotted shower cap covering his dark locks. He's got a chartreuse towel tucked under one arm and is holding a loofa and a rubber ducky.

"Do I want to know?" Natasha asks, looking as stunned as I feel, though really, at this point nothing should surprise me.

"Son of a bitch," Tony squawks as he walks in with Bruce. "What the hell?"

Bruce just stares a moment, then casually walks back out the door. I don't really blame him. The last thing we need is for him to Hulk out…or burst into hilarious laughter as Clint is doing. Steve, sulking in a corner (I still haven't figured out what his issue is. I always took him for a big sweetie) suddenly takes notice of the new arrival and turns the color of red thorns. The regulars only give Námo a glance and then go back to worrying about Erestor.

I roll my eyes and shove aside the wish to hide in a closet. Closets aren't safe in my house. You never know who might turn up in one. Or come out of one. "That would be Námo, Lord of Mandos. You would probably call him Lord of the Dead but that's not exactly right. It's complicated."

"More complicated than gods from Asgard?" Clint asks, holding his side from the laughter. "Because Thor and Loki were rather complicated, but that?" He points at Námo, who is completely unphased or ashamed in his nude form (a body is really pretty much the same thing as clothes to a Vala). "That's just…" He bursts out laughing again.

"I think I made a wrong turn," Námo states, looking around. "This isn't the baths on Saturn's rings."

I blink. Baths on Saturn's rings?

"Don't ask," Námo says, and I think if the Lord of Mandos says don't ask, you don't ask.

In the distance I hear a bit of thunder. Is it going to rain? It was perfectly sunny earlier, when I'd looked outside, before — Well, I glance around at the utter chaos that is my life…again — before _THIS_ happened! "Definitely more complicated, though certainly not more ridiculous." I gesture at the Lord of Mandos. "Loki wouldn't show up naked."

A booming voice fills the room. "How little you know my brother, Authoress. He would indeed show himself naked."

Well, well, well… Guess that explains the thunder. It was inevitable, I suppose, that with speaking of gods and the Valar, that Thor has arrived. Why do I have the feeling that can't be a good thing?

**To Be Continued….**

**Author's Note: **I was kind of disappointed at the limited response so far to this story. Is it just not working? Alas, Hulk is sad. Sad Hulk cries. Crying Hulk floods the house. Please review. I know you'd probably rather I finish something else, but as I have stated, Legs is NOT HERE! My Tolkien muse is NOT cooperating and this is what I got. Maybe I should take a hint and just not go there. *sigh* Alas, this muse disguised as Nick Fury holding me hostage at gun point just won't shut up. Sorry…


	3. The Big Bang That Wasn't

**Three**

**The Big Bang That Wasn't**

**or**

**Sauron's Not Dead Yet**

"Loki has escaped his bonds on Asgard and has aligned himself with an evil known as Sauron." Thor finds himself suddenly under close scrutiny as every eye in the room focuses on him.

"Ummm…." Frodo looks a bit discombobulated (because the author tries to include that word in every story). "We kind of defeated him and he blew up."

"Left a huge hole in Mordor that Aragorn filled with water from the Anduin," Sam adds. "Now it's a water park. They use oliphants to make it a wave pool."

Glorfindel meets my gaze across the room. "Could the spirit of Sauron have survived?" I ask.

"Of course it survived!" Námo says. "He's a maia. You don't just kill or blow up maiar."

"Thanks for the heads up," I tell him.

He gives me the chin up gesture and vanishes. So helpful, the Lord of Mandos. He really should be kept captive in his own halls.

"So we didn't defeat Sauron?" Sam asks, his eyes darting towards Frodo, who is suddenly quite pale.

We all look around at each other, speechless — until Steve finally finds his tongue. "Not to sound ignorant, but who exactly is Sauron?"

"He was that big flaming eye ball on the top of a tower that needed a huge bottle of Visine. You would have missed that, being a Capcicle at the time." Of course, Stark knows.

"Wait," Clint's humor drops away in a split second. "You're telling me that was real?"

I drop my head in my hands for probably the fourth or fifth time today. "None of you are real," I reiterate. They ignore me.

The door opens and Pippin and Merry enter. "Found it!" Pippin says, holding up a blue flower with red thorns. Merry grins in that gleeful way of his, even as Elrond groans.

"Excuse me, all of you," Thor booms, "but are you aware there is a man in his underpants in your privy, who has been shot in the backside with arrows?"

"Elrond is a Master Healer," I tell Thor and gesture towards the Peredhel, who is, to my horror, straddling Erestor and eyeing the arrows. "He'll be fine," I say, unconvinced, just as Elrond rips the first arrow from Erestor's backside, evoking a strong of rather violent elvish cursing.

Thor, to my surprise, pales and takes a step away from the bathroom. "Woman, if ever I am injured," he says, "I do not require the services of your healer."

"That makes two of us," Clint adds dryly, but also looking slightly disconcerted.

"Three," Natasha adds, wincing as Elrond stands on Erestor's back and rips Clint's arrow out next. "Only SHIELD doctors can touch us. It's in our contract."

"Really?" I ask.

"It will be in about ten seconds," Tony says, typing furiously on his phone. I can only assume he's hacking into SHIELD's files.

But Steve says nothing and just stares in horror at Elrond, and I have a sudden premonition of just where this is going…

"Red Skull," he whispers. "He also survived!"

I swear Captain America had a different personality in the movies.

Meanwhile Erestor is bleeding all over my bathroom and Elrond is trying to mop it up with my favorite towel. I've told him not to do that!

I decide to take pity on Erestor, since I really do like the elf (and that backside is worth saving!), and call for Námo. "Lord of Mandos! You forgot something!" I yell into the air.

The tinkling Tinkerbell sounds come again, and this time Námo pops in with at least a towel around his waist. "You rang?" he asks drolly.

I almost think I hear Steve curse, but surely I'm mistaken. He's got his head in his hands again. I point at Erestor and raise a brow at Námo.

"He'll live." But then his face flushes and he gasps in sudden panic. "I don't want him in my halls! Messing up my paperwork, cleaning and organizing! I'll never find anything again!"

"FIX him," I grind out between clenched teeth. Really, sometimes I get so annoyed with these characters.

"He can heal the wounded?" Thor asks, looking fascinated. "That is a skill I have never mastered."

"Probably because you're the one inflicting the harm, Thunderball," Tony quips.

I glance from Tony, to Thor then back to Namo. "Erestor," I remind him. "Fix him!"

Námo's face goes blank, then the Lord of Mandos actually rolls his eyes. "I am the Lord of the Dead, NOT Aulë! I don't 'fix' people. I just store them until Eru's ready to unleash them on the world again!" He gives me the look that clearly says I should know this, and sadly, he's right, but the only other Vala who has shown up has been Vairë, and she scares the shit out of me. I scramble for something to say.

"Oh, yes," I stumble over the words. "But, um, you can actually get Aulë to come here. I don't really know him, you know, or have any ties to him…"

Námo points at Gimli, and I think, _"Right, dwarf, son of Mahal… I'm an idiot."_

"Yes, you are," Námo agrees.

Great, the Lord of Mandos can reading freaking minds!

"And calm minds as well as stupid ones."

I hate him.

"Feeling's mutual."

"Aulë?" I ask.

"Actually, you need Estë. She's the healer."

I knew that.

"Uh huh."

"Is anyone else missing half this conversation?" Steve whines.

"I think we all are," Clint says, and he's starting to look uncomfortable being here. I don't blame him. It's getting rather crowded.

"Be grateful," I tell him.

"I'm grateful," Glorfindel adds, and I am tempted to grab Clint's bow and make use of it, but Glorfindel grins at me and I sigh and forgive him.

"Fine. Estë the Gentle."

Námo snorts and disappears.

"He's such a scarper," Glorfindel says. I agree with him completely.

"Garn it all!" comes a shrieking high pitched voice over the clanging of bad wind chime music. "Like, I was sleeping, ya know?"

Thus enters Estë the Gentle, or should I call her Estë the California girl wannabe? She's got bleached blond hair and is wearing some kind of floral halter dress that would make Penny proud. I stop that thought immediately and mumble to myself that the last thing I need to add to this chaos is Sheldon Cooper to the mix.

"Actually, this makes sense to me," Sheldon says, and that's when I realize he's already here, seated on the left side of the futon, eyeing the windows and vents. "And this is going to be my spot."

And of course, this is when the front door opens and Bruce enters calmly. He glances around at the utter chaos of the room, then casually says, "I just thought you all might wish to know Loki is outside with an burning eyeball on a stick."

**To Be Continued….**


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